


Ανους μεν ερχηι, τοις φιλοις δ'ορθως φιλη (You Go in Folly, but to Your Dear Ones Truly Dear)

by Quinara



Category: Antigone - Sophocles, Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Bechdel Test Ficathon, Gen, Promptfic, commentfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinara/pseuds/Quinara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ismene does not believe in death.</p><p>[Warning for issues of suicide.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ανους μεν ερχηι, τοις φιλοις δ'ορθως φιλη (You Go in Folly, but to Your Dear Ones Truly Dear)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laeria](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=laeria).



> Title translation credit to Andrew Brown, who works that line better than I can.
> 
> This was written for the [](http:)Bechdel Test Ficathon, in response to laeria's prompt: _Antigone_ (Sophocles) - Antigone, Ismene - _I don't care about their different thoughts / Different thoughts are good for me / Up in arms and chaste and whole / All God's children took their toll_

What more could be expected of her, cursed daughter of incest? What else could she do? Certainly, Ismene thought as she ducked past guards, fugitively seeking out her sister's tomb, she couldn't be expected to obey her king's law, not in the end.

The cave was easy to find, just beyond the palace walls. Creon might believe he could lock her sister away without the miasma finding him, but he wasn't so arrogant as bring a tomb inside the city. She followed the stone stairs down, away from the upper world, imagining her sister taking the same path, head held high as if walking to her marriage bed.

"Oh, who is it now?" came her sister's strident voice as Ismene unlocked the door with her stolen key. "Is Creon not content with... Ismene?"

She'd been here for less than a day, but Ismene thought she could already see the darkness and the hunger seeping into Antigone's skin. She held her torch aloft, stepping fully into the room, tears swelling at the sight of Antigone's reddened eyes and loose hair. "Oh, Antigone..." she cried, rushing over to embrace her sister. They held each other for long, full seconds. "Come now," she said, trying to keep her voice strong, despite how frail her sister felt in her arms. She continued, drawing back, "Let us escape - to Athens, or elsewhere if Theseus will not take us. We must be gone from Thebes."

"We - no..." Antigone replied, shaking her head and wiping away fresh tears. "I am wedded to this death - I cannot..."

"You cannot?" Uncomprehending, Ismene stared at her sister, frozen.

She explained fervently. "They would know," she said, frowning as she watched ants crawl beneath them. "They would know that you had freed me, think you as worthless as I; I cannot - it is right they should think one of our family virtuous, that the possibility should remain that we sinned by choice rather than necessity." Then she looked up pleadingly, hope (which had to be for Ismene, since it could not be for herself) rounding her eyes to circles.

That look snapped Ismene from her disbelief. She shouted helplessly, "I don't _care_ what they think, Antigone!" Her gaze darted around the tomb, if it could be called that, empty of every offering, belonging or memory. "I _care_ that you will die, not long from now!" Did Antigone not realise this? "If my virtue is the price for your life, then I wish I had never been born to our noble house." Reaching a hand back, she loosened her own hair from its respectable knot and tossed her comb to the floor. "Respect is worth nothing," she insisted, meeting her sister's eyes again. "Come with me."

But Antigone backed away, shaking her head as a little of her old stubborn pride came over her posture, though her voice was still laced with misery. "No, Ismene, by the two goddesses, I won't," she declared. "A woman may not abandon her home. You were not at the ceremony, but the gods themselves observed it: this is the house of my marriage, my rightful place."

For a moment, Ismene stared, part of her mind now calculating how long the guards would take to realise their key was missing and reach the cave behind her. It would not be long. "Antigone..." she pleaded desperately.

Yet her sister did nothing but turn her back, trembling as she raised her eyes to the wall. "Leave me now, Ismene."

In her mind she could already hear the footthumps of the Theban guards. "No," she said simply, helplessly, then threw the torch to the sandy floor.


End file.
